


Trouble Sleeping

by rayeliann



Series: A Small Fire in a Dark World [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lyrium Withdrawal, Nightmares, PTSD Cullen, Rite of Tranquility, Tranquil Trevelyan, interruptions, unreality cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3561026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayeliann/pseuds/rayeliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadynne's greatest fear worms its way into Cullen's nightmares and Hadynne struggles with what those three little words mean to a life-long Circle Mage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Sleeping

Their marching footsteps echoed down the dark stone hallways. Heavy footsteps. Heavy armor. Heavy hearts.

It was a Harrowing they were going to, Cullen could be sure of it. The way the other Templars marched, stoically, in measured steps that echoed off the stone slab floor. They were measured steps - not eager ones- and might have even been hesitant had it not been for the looming air of duty hanging over their heads.

Despite what the mages might think,Cullen had never met a single Templar who looked forward to a Harrowing. It was a precarious time, a time that put them on edge as they waited with bated breath, all the while knowing something could go horribly wrong. If things did go awry, it was up to them to react without hesitation or feeling. To cut short a life they had been guarding just the day before, watching as an apprentice bloomed into a mage. It was up to them to end it swiftly, before they endangered the rest of the tower.

The Harrowing chamber was dark, darker than usual, and Cullen was swept through the door with the tide of his brothers and sisters in arms. His limbs felt heavy and a little disjointed, and his thoughts were foggy. The figures around him were nondescript and without identity- little more than big, empty suits of templar armor. They all wore helmets, as a means of hiding their faces. Should there be a need for the final blow, it would be hard to distinguish who had delivered it.

The air in the Harrowing chamber was stuffy and dense to the point of stifling. The whole mood of the room was uncomfortable. Cullen had never liked the Harrowing chamber. The floor stones were darker than those throughout the rest of the tower - no doubt it was to disguise the stains of the spilled blood of abominations and failed mages. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with barred windows that were barely wide enough for a child to fit through sideways. And yet somehow, the ceiling felt as if it was pressing down on them, pushing the gathering crowd (too many for the room really - where had they all come from?) together tightly.

Cullen’s armor seemed to increase in weight, pulling hard on his broad shoulders. The pedestal in the center of the room was illuminated by a bowl of glowing, luminescent blue liquid. It shimmered, practically singing with power, and Cullen felt himself immediately recoil.

It was liquid lyrium, and it threw long, blue shadows around the dark room, the light gleaming off of polished silver templar armor. Cullen was a templar, and templars took lyrium to enhance their magic disruption abilities. So why had his first reaction been revulsion? Why were his inner organs squirming uncomfortably, and why was an itching voice at the base of his neck screaming at him to back up… to get away from it?

_“Is this what you want?”_

_“No….”_

_A delicate hand pressing on his chest… dark eyes sparking with sly intelligence… a glimmer of auburn hair in the sunlight…_

_“If I cannot endure this…”_

_“You can.”_

Cullen's drifting thoughts were pulled sharply back to the Harrowing chamber. He felt himself rooted in place as the room continued to filled with Templars in full armor. He felt himself melt into the crowd, like a member of the roiling mob at a public trial. Except no one here was jeering - they were eerily silent, the only sounds those of footsteps on granite. Faceless, they really were quite imposing… What was going on?

The figure of a female mage was brought forward, her arms held stiffly by figures in armor that dwarfed her. She was small, fragile looking almost. Stumbling forward at her release, she grasped the edge of the basin, her face bathed in glowing blue light. She looked up, out into the crowd, her big doe-eyes searching. One of the figures flanking her snarled something, jabbing at her, and she dropped her gaze back to the lyrium, ready to begin her Harrowing.

Time around Cullen seemed to glitch, jumping forward as he stood rooted in place. Figures blurred, and a roaring filled his ears. He closed his eyes tight against the commotion, tearing his gaze from the frightened little made standing alone at the center of the room.

_“Even after…?”_

_“Cullen! I care about you. You’ve done nothing to change that.”_

_She smells like flowers and spring and soap. When the wind brushes past her, it carries the subtle scent of her to him. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, fingers delicate._

Someone knocked against Cullen’s shoulder, jarring him as his eyes flew open. Time seemed to have stabilized, and he was still standing in the Harrowing chamber, shoulder to shoulder with other templars. The mage at the basin had collapsed to her knees, hugging the pedestal base and sobbing. Two armored warriors were pulling her off of it, large steel hands closing around her tiny wrists. Her legs went limp in protest, as she began to wail, and the Templars proceeded to drag her from the room.

“Please! I can do better! Please! I can do it, I swear!” She was wailing, her formerly dark eyes shimmering blue with the light of the lyrium. Her lips shimmered in kind, and a small blue droplet ran down her chin. Her gaze landed on him, starting straight through the crowd and his helmet, and burning in recognition.

“Cullen! Cullen, help me! Please!” She screamed, her voice breaking in panic, as her Templar captors seemed not to hear her. She was crying, tears running down her face as she screamed, her feet picking out helplessly. A stirring of familiarity happened in the back of his mind, slow at first, and then all at once it as Cullen found a name to fit the face.

“Hadynne?” Her name slipped out in his surprise. No, no that wasn't right. This wasn't how things had gone. She didn’t belong here. She was supposed to be in Ostwick, safe and sound. This wasn’t the way things had happened.

“Hadynne!” Cullen exclaimed again, emotion crushing the reasoning voice in his head that had been trying to sort things out. He heard her echo his call, and surged forward, elbowing through a sea of Templar uniforms, pushing toward her in exasperation. His steps seemed to slow, and his armor increased in weight. He was panting, sweating, and she was getting further and further away. He pressed harder, but the crowd stretched on before him, jostling him roughly. He was going no where.

Time slowed around him again, the mob of templar uniforms blurring together as Cullen panted, still running through them. The forms around him seemed to melt away, and his hands connected hard with the wooden door he had seem Hadynne disappear behind.

_“A life without you? Never.”_

_She lowers her eyes, the faintest of blushes on her cheeks. He feels a smile tug at his mouth, and he doesn't fight it._

This was not happening. It wasn't right. Things had not gone like this at all. Hadynne had been in Ostwick, not Fereldan. She had long left Fereldan by the time he had gotten his uniform. Hadynne had never known him as a Templar. They had never been in the same place… and she had passed her Harrowing (in Ostwick) over a decade ago. No, no this was not right. What was she doing here? They could not do this. Not to her.

Hadynne Trevelyan. She was to be the Herald of Andraste. The figurehead and leader of the Inquisition. She would seal the Breach and bring the Templars back from the brink of Red Lyrium corruption. She would physically walk into the Fade and then back out again at Adamant, and then offer the Grey Wardens a stern chance at redemption.

_“Cullen… do you need to ask?”_

_“I suppose not…”_

_The tinkle of breaking glass. Her sharp intake of breath. Her lips are the color of the spilled wine as she sinks her teeth into the bottom one, tugging at it nervously. The heavy scent of wine hangs in the air around him and he wonders if he can taste it on her. A pull at the very core of his being…_

The door swung open easily, the strength of his contact causing the hinges to wheeze, and the door to clatter against the wall as it was flung wide. Cullen stumbled into a long hallway with big, open windows. He had just been at the top of the tower, there was no way…  He could smell Lake Calenhad, and heard the screech of a far-off bird.

At the end of the hallway there was a tall, weathered statue of Andraste with her chin raised high, and her enormous sword in hand. A few candles sputtered and flickered against the damp at the base of the statue, and a slight figure stood before it. A long, auburn braid trailed down her back between narrow shoulders.

Cullen raced toward her, knowing without knowing that it was Hadynne. It had to be Hadynne. When he reached her, he took her slim shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him. His stomach dropped.

Her big, deer-like eyes were dark again, and they stared up at him blank and empty. Her porcelain skin was as pale and smooth as ever, cool under her touch, much cooler than he had ever remembered her being. Hadynne was a fire mage, and Cullen remembered the surprise he felt when he first encountered how warm her body temperature ran. He remembered hot fingertips running through his hair, and scorching lips on his own. Hadynne had never been cool - when they found her wandering after Haven, the healers had sworn it was her unusually high body temperature that had kept her from freezing solid in the blizzard.

But most of all, Cullen's eyes were fixed to the angry brand in the center of her forehead in the shape of a sunburst. The mark of Tranquility. It was something he knew well, as he had seen it far too ofter in Kirkwall, marking his charges as the Knight Commander and Ulric deemed it the only resort. Was this some joke of the Maker? Punishing Hadynne for all of the times Cullen should have spoken up? All of the times he should have stepped in to protect the Kirkwall mages? All of the times he allowed Meredith or Ulric or some other Templar zealot to determine punishment?

Oh, oh Maker no. Please no. Not _her_.

Hadynne’s lips- normally painted and dark - were rosy and naked, parting as Cullen’s name slipped out in recognition.

“Cullen.” Hadynne’s voice repeated as Cullen let out a long, shuddering gasp in disbelief. This was not happening, could not be happening. This was not the way things had gone at all!

_Punish me. Take me._

_Not her._

“Cullen why didn't you help me?” Hadynne asked in an empty, even tone. There was no emotion in her eyes or her voice or even the expression on her face. Her words echoed down the hallway and Cullen felt a scream rising in his throat. Hadynne’s head tilted as she looked at him, eyes intense.

“Why didn’t you save me?” She asked in that same emotionless tone as Cullen’s hands brushed over the brand on her forehead. He touched his own forehead to hers, no longer able to hold his feelings in. He clasped Hadynne to him in a tight embrace as shuddering breaths that threatened to become sobs wracked through him.

Hadynne repeated her questions, and Cullen found himself collapsing, sinking to his knees. Hadynne’s form had slowly turned to smoke in his very hands. Hadynne and the hallways and everything else seemed to melt away.

And just like that, Cullen's eyes opened and he found himself back in his tower at Skyhold, looking up through the hole in his roof at the night sky.

* * *

 

Hadynne was humming as she sat at her dressing table in her delicate silk slip. The night air was cool, but she always ran warm anyway - it didn’t bother her. There was a certain degree of freedom to being able to sit in her quarters in nothing but her slip. She had been dragging heavy armor around for days, and was not about to pass an opportunity to let her skin breathe.

Her hair tumbled free of its pins, down her back in dark auburn tresses, and she had scrubbed her face clean from the day. She regarded her reflection in the hazy, polished glass as it stared back at her. Her freckles had started to come out - just across her nose. And her mouth seemed small on her face when it was not painted. She was pretty, but so very ordinary. That woman in the mirror couldn’t command armies or blackmail Orlesian nobles.

Like this, without makeup or fancy armor, she looked like she could be anyone. If it was not for that cursed mark on her hand, she could be. She could be a nobleman’s daughter or a politician’s wife. She could be a farm girl or a merchant’s daughter. She could even pass for a Chantry sister provided she could keep her mouth closed long enough to stay out of trouble.

Hadynne’s door clattered open, and a barely-dressed Cullen stumbled in. His eyes were wild, his pants wrinkled, feet bare, and the neckline of his cotton tunic gaped open, exposing a heaving, scarred section of his chest. Dark circles had collected beneath red-rimmed eyes, and his cheeks were gaunt and pale.

“Cullen!” Hadynne squeaked in surprise, leaping to her feet as she scrambled for her robe. Confused, startled, and oddly bashful, Hadynne clutched the robe in front of her, tight against her chest. The thin strap of her shift slipped off of her shoulder, and her hair swished behind her as she backed into her room.

“Cullen what-“ Hadynne demanded, cut off by Cullen crossing the room and pulling her into his arms, crushing her into a tight hug that practically lifted her off of her feet. The hands that held up her robe were pressed tight against Cullen’s chest, and she felt the muscles of his torso flex against them as he squeezed her, burying his face in her loose hair.

Seeing no harm in such a display - no matter how startled she was by Cullen's arrival - Hadynne allowed this to continue. Cullen seemed to need reassurance of some kind, but until she could piece together what was going on, she would keep silent. It wasn't as if she felt like she was in any danger by his sudden arrival in her room (despite the late hour). She had heard horror stories of helpless women and crazed or drunken men, but her imagination’s wild panic had died the moment she had recognized the intruder as Cullen. That said, she really needed to remember to lock her door - especially if she wished to continue enjoying the freedom of prancing about in her small-clothes.

The Commander was a strong, caring man who was both helpful and kind. His gruff manner came from concern, and a need to preserve and protect. He grumbled and roared at his troops and sometimes at guests, but he had always treated Hadynne with respect. They’d grown quite close - first as friends, but now, perhaps as something more. Cullen was the one person (aside from Vivienne, who was perhaps a bit too much like Hadynne herself for the Inquisitor to get close to) who fully understood where Hadynne had come from. Though it had been several weeks since he had seized her in a deep kiss on the battlements (and then apologized immediately), Cullen had never pressured her for more. He always seemed genuinely happy to see her stopping by his office, and surprised when she pulled him someplace private for a quick, sweet kiss.

“Forgive me…. I….I had to see that you were ok.” Cullen mumbled finally as he released her back onto swaying feet. He stepped back, giving her a respectful amount of space as Hadynne blinked, trying to sort her thoughts into something that made sense. Misreading her silence as offense, Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to leave.

“Wait.” Hadynne managed, catching his hand as she crossed the room. She perched on the edge of her curtained bed, folding one leg up under her as the other dangled. She’d dropped the robe in favor of Cullen’s hand, and seemed to have forgotten about modesty, comfortable in her thin shift and her own skin. Cullen, on the other hand, seemed to suddenly realize his state of undress, looking down at his wrinkled tousers, bare feet and hairy toes as he straightened his gaping tunic awkwardly. Reluctantly, he followed Hadynne’s direction to sit facing her, on the edge of her bed. “Oh!” Hadynne exclaimed, as if remembering something. She rose, darting across the floor and down the stairs to her door before sliding the heavy bolts that locked it into place. She returned quickly, bouncing into place on her bed, her hair a cloud of red-brown behind her.

“Now we can be sure there are no interruptions as you explain to me just what is troubling you.”

“It’s nothing. I am sorry to have bothered you, I…I was not thinking.” Cullen responded, looking down at his calloused hands. Hadynne leaned forward, her hand curling around Cullen’s upper arm, her fingers digging into hard muscle.

“Cullen. It was enough to bring you running across Skyhold in the middle of the night in… “ Hadynne’s dark gaze flickered over Cullen’s attire as a smile quirked across her lips in her trademark flirtatious style. “ …In precious more than your small clothes. So it was not nothing.”

Cullen flushed, his hand closing around Hadynne’s as he sat in quiet contemplation for a few moments. Hadynne’s mind drifted as her gaze skipped over his face and soft, soft lips, and down his strong chest. It lingered over the edge of the open neckline, her fingers itching to run along the draping line, slipping beneath. She thought of the thin line of golden flesh at his waist that had been exposed when Cullen had scratched the back of his neck. She’d glimpsed pale scar-tissue, and the hint of a navel. She thought of the way the top of his trousers hugged his hips, curving up high on the sides and dipping slightly in the front where they laced.

Hadynne’s thoughts wandered to catching Cullen in a kiss and pressing him back, down against the plush scarlet comforter, pinning him underneath her. What might roving hands discover as they mapped his battle scars? She knew if she really wanted to, she could try to make him forget his worries and whatever it was that had brought him here.

Hadynne shook her improper thoughts away as she felt heat rising up her neck and face. What had gotten into her? Such thoughts were… quite unlike her, and not what Cullen needed now. He needed a friend’s understanding- not a lover’s distraction.

“You know that I have dreams. They aren't caused by the withdrawal, but… since I've gone off of the lyrium, they’ve been much worse.” Cullen said, his explanation wavering as a flush crossed his face. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed she might think him weak.

“Cullen, that is nothing to be ashamed of. I had the most terrible dreams for years after my Harrowing. I still do from time to time. Though now…now they are a bit different.” Hadynne trailed off, slipping her hands into his as she scooted closer to him. This was not about her.

“This time… Tonight it was different.” Cullen insisted, looking at her with a fire in his eyes, a look so intense it seemed to scorch her. His hands tightened around hers protectively. Hadynne felt a shiver run down her spine, but she didn’t dare break eye contact.

“How?”

“It’s always been me. Using my memories against me. Many things, my time at the Circle, in Kirkwall, my own words, orders I carried out without question, the things I could not - can not change. But this…” Cullen trailed off, looking down at Hadynne’s hands gripped in his own. “This time it was you.”

“Me?” Hadynne felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. A more astute observer might have made the connection before hearing it from Cullen himself, but Hadynne had not thought to put the clues together. She had been distracted by her concern over her companion’s obvious state of agitation.

“After Adamant, you said… you said that nightmares come from demons. They feed on our fears. Whatever they choose to send my way, I can endure it. But you…” His brow had furrowed, and he gripped the side of her face, his thumb brushing roughly across her cheek as he drew close.

“I will not let them harm you.” Cullen planted a kiss in the center of Hadynne’s forehead with such fervor that a sudden twist in Hadynne’s stomach filled in the blanks for her.

“Cullen… what did you see?” Hadynne asked, her stomach dropping as her voice sounded strange to her own ears, strangled and a few octaves higher than normal. She felt a chill of fear run through her, already knowing what his answer would be.

“I saw you… In the Circle, my Circle at Fereldan before… It was a Harrowing gone awry. I… I don’t think you were strong enough, or…or maybe your sensitivity kept you from going through with it… They took you away. You were shouting for me. I couldn’t… I couldn't get to you in time.”

“I passed my Harrowing back when I was fifteen. At Ostwick. I was sick for days after, but I can assure you, everything went normally.”

“Hadynne they… they…” Cullen’s voice broke as he looked at her, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. The dread made her nearly sick, and Hadynne felt her hands begin to shake. She willed him not to finish the sentence, wanted him to say anything other than what she knew he would say.

“Hadynne they made you tranquil.”

Hadynne felt her entire body spasm involuntarily as a reaction to the words. She flinched as memories of the sunburst brand filled her mind. A whimper built in her throat, but she fought for control. She was the reassuring one here. He needed her to be strong.

“Cullen. It was a dream. I'm just fine.” Hadynne whispered against his ear as she pulled him close, into a hug. She wasn’t sure if it was more to comfort her or him.

“I had to be sure.” Cullen responded, big arms crushing around her protectively. “I will die before I allow that to happen to you.” he whispered softly, so quietly it was almost like breathing.

Hadynne wanted to tell him she didn’t need him to say such things. That his sentiment was dramatic and reckless and overly romantic to the point of foolish. That she didn’t want anyone, least of all him, to die for her. That she didn’t need anyone to protect her, she could take care of herself. She was not weak, she was not as delicate as she seemed. She was the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste (no matter how much she hated that title). She had armies at her command, a circle of loyal friends, allies in the Grey Wardens and the Templars and the Empress of Orlais. She was Bann Trevelyan’s daughter and the youngest Enchanter ever to receive the title in the history of the Ostwick Circle. She had fire in her blood and lightning in her veins. She survived the Conclave explosion and the Haven avalanche. She had walked into the Fade and back out…twice. She was a Knight Enchanter and a Dragon Hunter and she would not be cowed…by anyone or any thing.

But the words seemed to trip over themselves on their way from her heart to her tongue, and when she thought of the look on Cullen's face as he recounted the dream… her heart skipped a beat and her resolve crumbled. Two lone words snuck out, so soft and quiet that she barely heard them herself.

“I know.”

She pulled him backwards, into the bed next to her as she curled into his hug. Nothing put a chill in her bones like the threat of being made Tranquil. No demon, no darkspawn magister, no dragon.

Hadynne lay with her head on Cullen's chest, listening to his heart beat steadily for several long moments. She took the time to gather her thoughts, ground herself in reality. Her eyes drooped closed heavily, and she must have let her thoughts drift to more pleasant things, as she floated to the edge of sleep.

Cullen cleared his throat, jostling Hadynne awake as he sat up, gently extracting his arm from beneath her head. She twitched as she started in a sudden return to wakefulness, her eyes darting around. “Wha-whassat?”

“You need your sleep. I apologize. I should not have disturbed you.” Cullen offered by way of explanation as he swung his feet over the far side of the bed. He seemed to always be shying away from her, uncertain and unwilling to believe that she cared for him. She did not mind constantly reassuring him. If that was what he needed, she was happy to oblige. At times he reminded her of a dog that had been kicked too many times and had come to expect it. When faced with kindness or compassion, he did not know how to respond.

Rather ungracefully, Hadynne rolled over and wiggled across the top of her coverlet after him. She dragged herself across the bed like a fish flopping about on dry land. When she reached Cullen, she ran her fingers up his spine, as high as she could reach without having to sit up.

“Cullen. Would you like to stay here tonight?” As the words left her lips, Cullen twisted to look down at her, eyes blazing in alarm. He rose, sputtering words in half-formed apologies, falling over himself.

“I… thats not why… I didn’t mean - I’m not trying to…”

“I simply meant that should your dreams return, I will be within arms reach. You would not have to sprint across the courtyard in… that outfit.” Hadynne felt herself smirking as she drew herself up into a sitting position, propping herself up on one of her arms, the thin strap of her shift dangling off her shoulder. Her gaze flickered over Cullen appraisingly. He squirmed under her scrutiny, suddenly self-conscious as he stared intently at the floor. And yet, he allowed her to look, her eyes lingering as they dragged over him.

“Should you encounter someone in your travels… Well, I would not blame a tavern maid or stray noble woman for flinging themselves upon you.” Hadynne finished, her tone flattering, but entirely sincere. Cullen’s ears flushed pink as he rubbed the back of his neck in one of his more adorable mannerisms.

“However, it is just an offer. I will take no personal offense should you decline.” Hadynne amended quickly. Her flirtatious manner lent to people not taking her seriously or underestimating her constantly - two very useful weapons in her arsenal of tricks. But she had no intention of allowing it to make Cullen feel pressured. Hadynne had been tiptoeing through their more serious moments, careful not to be misinterpreted. It was important to her that this - whatever it was she had with Cullen - this was entirely real and completely genuine.

“And you can be certain that I will not share any of your con-“ Hadynne’s second addendum was cut off abruptly as Cullen crushed her lips to his in a kiss. His big, square fingers gripped her bare shoulder as his other hand cupped her face, burying itself in her auburn tangle of hair. He pressed her backwards, and they tumbled back into the bed with a giggle and an indistinct apology.

“Sorry.” Cullen whispered, hovering over Hadynne, a corded arm planted beside her as he propped himself up so as to not crush her much smaller form. His breath was warm on her face, and she giggled, chasing his lips with her own as her hards slid over his chest. A few fearlessly curious fingers slid under the open neckline of his tunic, and over his warm, scarred skin.

“Don’t be.” Hadynne mumbled through her kisses as one of her knees wrapped itself around his waist, entirely of its own accord. Hadynne marveled at (but did not object to) her seemingly sudden inability to control her own body. A strong hand skimmed up her leg, hot against her skin, rough with callouses from manual labor. Hadynne heard herself inhale shakily, the breath more audible than she had intended.

This slight sound seemed to spur Cullen forward, and he moved more brazenly, deepening their kiss, pressing her head back into the soft bed. Hadynne pressed every possible inch of her body against his as she felt a heat rising within her. Cullen moved hard against her in response, his wandering hand gripping her hip, high up under the skirt of her shift. A new sort of hunger burned in her chest as she pulled at his shirt, her hands running up his chest in unabashed curiosity.

Cullen’s lips had wandered down over her chin and along her jawline, making their way down the length of her regal neck, and dipping into the hollow. She felt her leg clench around him, and his steady hand held her in place.

He was methodical and meticulous, his lips brushing over one of her clavicles, and The slightest whining sigh fell from her lips, the smallest of noises, but hearing it, Cullen paused. Hadynne felt a string of colorful curses rattle through her head as her eyes flew open.

Cullen broke away from her to speak, his grip loosening, and his breath coming in quick puffs as his cheeks flared pink. His face was serious, and it was clear something was on his mind. Her roving fingers had been lingering along the waistband of his pants, and she withdrew them slowly. His fingers fumbled clumsily brushing her stray hair from her face. Hadynne felt herself breathing in time, and a lazy breeze from her open balcony felt cool against her hot skin.

“Hadynne. I don’t know… what I would do if-”

“Hush.”

“Is it silly of me to be more frightened of losing you than… anything else in the world?” Gold eyes bored into her, and Hadynne felt a flush rising up her neck. Something twisted in her stomach, and she knew this was not a conversation that warranted (or would allow) avoiding.

“I think I know _exactly_ what that feels like.” She exhaled, ever so softly, her eyes fixing on his meaningfully. Hadynne Trevelyan could talk circles around trained diplomats and negotiators, but when it came to her own feelings…

 _Just say it. Tell him._ Her inner monologue - the voice that had just been cursing at her for distracting Cullen from kissing her - snarled at her. _It’s not that difficult. They're words.  You mean them._

_They’re words I was never allowed. Words I don’t feel entitled to. Who am I to love him?_

_You’re the Inquisitor! You’re the flaming Herald of Andraste!_

_I’m a mage._

_And?_

_And mages don’t get happy endings. We get the Circle. We don’t get families and we certainly don’t get to fall in love._

_Hang that, you’re one of the most powerful people in Thedas. You can change what mages get._

“Hadynne, I- ” Cullen’s voice cut into the argument she was having with herself, jarring her back out of her own head, only to have him cut off by a sharp rapping on her door. Someone jiggled the handle, and finding it locked, resumed their heavy knocking.

Hadynne yelped in surprise at the sudden, loud noise, and Cullen immediately rolled off of her and out of bed. Hadynne caught herself muttering under her breath, upset by the interruption. This was becoming a thing for them. Cullen's feet found the floor, and he looked as if he was searching for something in the room to be used as a weapon.

“Inquisitor!” A voice from the other side of the door called, sounding urgent.

“Yes! Just a minute!” Hadynne responded shrilly as she rolled out of bed, darting toward the robe she had dropped earlier. Pulling it on, and tying it tight around her waist, she padded down to open the door.

The Inquisiton scout on the other side of the door turned a brilliant scarlet upon seeing Hadynne clad in her robe and silk slip, without her makeup, and her hair clearly mussed, and streaming free. Hadynne’s hands slid over her hair, trying to smooth it, and tuck it back behind her ears.

“C-C-C-Commander…” The scout stammered as Cullen drew up behind Hadynne, fireplace iron in his hand.

Cullen was in a greater state of undress than the Inquisitor, since she had at least the opportunity and good sense to throw on a robe (though he did appear to be better armed). Cullen’s shirt was rumpled, the neck still gaping wide open, and the bottom hem untucked and uneven. His normally well-groomed hair was tousled and beginning to curl. The fingers Hadynne had dragged through it had left it messy and unkempt. Their appearances, in combination with the late hour and bolted door would have led any casual observer to the same (nearly accurate) conclusion.

The poor scout’s face turned from scarlet to an unhealthy shade of purple as his lips gasped for air like a fish sucking water.

Hadynne squinted at him curiously.

Could this possibly be the same scout who had also interrupted them on the ramparts outside Cullen’s office?


End file.
